belated but pre-dated

Well, Mom’s done it again. She’s gone and gotten yet another year younger. The math doesn’t add up, or, I should say, subtract up. If you subtract the year she was born from 2007, the number you come up with is not her actual age. I don’t know how it works. I asked Molly, who is well practiced in subtraction right now, and she couldn’t figure it out either. So I asked Will if there was some kind of Algebraic phenomenon going on. He worked it out, 1944 + y = 2007, but it still turned out to be the wrong answer. Jack chimed in with a story problem. 20 year old has boy child. When the boy child is 43 years old, how old will the mother be?
Nope, still didn’t work out correctly.
So, we’re all baffled yet again.

So, why am I writing such goofy nonsense on this, another January 21? And why am I doing it a day late, but dating it as if it weren’t late at all? Because I’ve racked my brains for two days trying to come up with some clever, sweet, thoughtful, sentimental something that I may not have already written on any of the previous three January 21s. I mentioned last year that I’d created a terribly stressful situation for my self, but somehow eeked by with a mediocre attempt. This year though, I’m afraid I’m all out of mediocrity.
Perhaps it’s my own advancing chronology that has rendered my creative, clever self-image waning. At any rate, a simple “happy birthday” will have to do.
So,
Happy Birthday Bonmomma
May your logarithmic age regression continue.